


Scott's Oxford Education

by Mars_McKie



Category: Thunderbirds
Genre: F/M, University, references to other characters - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-09
Updated: 2017-07-09
Packaged: 2018-11-30 02:45:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11454363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mars_McKie/pseuds/Mars_McKie
Summary: For as long as there had been International Rescue there had also been the Hood attempting to steal their secrets. This is how he first gained knowledge of the organisation.When the Hood sends his spy to steal top secret documents, it is up to Scott and Lady Penelope to stop them.





	Scott's Oxford Education

**Author's Note:**

> Scott studied at Yale and Oxford but it's never specified what he studied or in what order so I take it to mean Yale was an undergraduate degree and Oxford post-grad. That being said there isn't that many post-grad courses at Oxford that might be useful to become a Thunderbird (somehow I can't see Scott studying English Literature!) so Software Engineering is what it is! And just use imagination that Oxford could have sci-fi high-tech computer labs, I have no idea and it's getting late!
> 
> I don't own Thunderbirds, I just write about them!

_Orientation is different in Britain compared to what it was in America_ , Scott remembered thinking. _Or then again, perhaps it is simply to do with the course now being a Masters level._

Scott Tracy -now 22, a Yale graduate, son to a billionaire, recently moved to England and still no closer to understanding where he stood in his father's grand plan for the world- clutched his shoulder bag in one hand and his shiny new security card (which would give him access to the wonderful tech labs and their fantastic secret advances in engineering) in the other as he walked through the halls at Oxford University to what would be his lab for the next year.

He swiped the card through the reader, the light turned green and the door swung open. _Here we go again._

*

At midnight, students staggered around drunkenly on the streets while a lone figure dressed in a long trench coat stood in a telephone booth, tapping the top of the box in irritation.

“I want the plans to the new supercomputer they are building at the University,” a dark, male voice droned out of the receiver.

“I have found where they are kept in the department. They are under lock and key to all but the graduates working on it. This wouldn’t have been a problem if you had got the right paperwork,” the stranger responded.

“My buyers are getting restless. You must move quickly to secure the deal.”

“If you want speed then you will have to add another zero to my price. Doing this job quickly is too risky- discretion is needed here for your identity to remain hidden.”

“You are my best spy, Agent Z. I know you will not fail to bring me the plans.”

Agent Z gave a small, confident smile. The Hood could be petulant at times but he was by no means one to cross. “I will contact you.”

The screen flashed up _End Of Call_ and Agent Z stepped out of the phone box onto the dark streets of Oxford.

*

Several weeks passed for Scott on his course; he’d settled in well in his new accommodation, his friends on the course were all cool people and they were making fantastic progress on their term project. In their first week the graduates studying for their doctorates showed them the incredible supercomputer they had been working on and which powered their labs- the advances they had made in technology were something else. If only he could have brought John here; his younger brother would have loved it.

For all of the excitement that software engineering provided, they still found time to go out to the pub and have a good time. It was on one such night that Scott met Amy. He had been getting his round in (since his mates had found out he was a billionaire’s son he’d ended up buying a lot of rounds) while she was sat at the bar.

Amy saw him struggling with the glasses and after a moment she asked “do you need a hand there?”

Scott did a double take- she had tanned skin from some hot climate, bright blue eyes not unlike his own, an ash-brown bob and pixie lips in a natural smile. And a great rack (he couldn’t help but notice).

“Yeah sure!” he said. Any nervousness he’d ever had for talking to new girls had left him some time ago while he’d still been in Yale. She helped him get the drinks to the table and he chanced to ask “Would you want to join us?”

She smiled widely and sat down next to him. Extending her hand she said “I’m Amy, by the way.”

“Scott,” he replied, shaking her hand. She was looking him in the eyes and holding his hand for what was longer than necessary and Scott thought _Oh yeah, she is definitely interested. I’ve still got it even in another country!_

Amy it turned out was a first year Philosophy student with lectures in another building to them and his mates (seeing that Scott was obviously interested in her in return) kept the conversation going and did a fair job at humiliating him in front of her, though for her part she just laughed at it all while Scott grew gradually redder. Within half an hour she knew pretty much everything about him reported through the team, and it was only when Dave started relaying how Scott had wrongly programmed their robot and it had gone on a rampage in the lab that he finally put his foot down.

“I’m going out for a fag,” he muttered mutinously. As he lit up he was aware he shouldn’t have let them get so out of control, or perhaps he shouldn’t have invited her over in the first place.

His mates came out to apologise and they did seem sincere about it but he felt the damage had already been done. However, just as he came to that conclusion Amy came out of the pub.

“Mind if I steal one off you?” she asked, indicating his cigarettes. Scott extended the pack and while she was busy lighting up he gave a practised glare which could send four brothers running, and his mates retreated to a safe distance.

“Look, I’m sorry about all of that in there,” he began but she cut him off.

“You don’t have to apologise, that was hilarious! How much of that stuff they said was actually true?”

“All of it, and you’ve only heard half of it!” Dave shouted over. Another glare and he was pulled away to back inside the pub.

“So listen-” she started then hesitated. “I really had fun tonight but I have to get back to writing this essay. If it’s OK I... would like to see you again.”

“Yeah, I’d love to see you again,” Scott beamed his charming smile. “I mean, if it was like a date?”

“Yeah, that would be awesome.”

Scott inwardly fist pumped as he exchanged numbers with Amy and before she left she cupped his cheek and laid a light kiss on his lips. “Bye,” she whispered, before turning and walking off down the street. Scott ran his fingers through his dark knotted hair and strode back into the pub where he would both throttle and hug Dave in equal measures.

*

They went on a date, then they went on a second, then they were making out on the backseat of her car and it seemed they were official. Things felt different with Amy than it had with any other girl he’d dated before; she wasn’t all fake simpers and clinginess like most girls he’d been with who were only interested in him for his father’s money- she was casual and could be sarcastic and feisty with him and was more concerned in his life than that of his family. One evening in his bedroom the conversation did turn to his family (Scott had been talking about how his younger brother Gordon had been immediately accepted into every university he had applied to and was now having to deal with said universities each trying to appeal to grace his presence directly) Amy said:

“It must have been difficult for all of you, growing up with that both as a privilege and a shadow.”

“I’ve never thought of it as a shadow before,” Scott pondered her meaning. “I suppose if it is a shadow it’s one we’ve all become used to.” He felt like she could understand him in a way that nobody else before had.

Though they spent as much time together as possible, classes continued and while she disappeared off across the city to lecture halls Scott disappeared down into the labs, the work becoming increasingly intense. It was one such day as this that Scott was working over lunch while his mates had left the lab and his tutor entered, leading an elegantly dressed young lady with blonde hair that fell to her shoulders topped with a large-brimmed hat, skin like porcelain and a pink suit and stilettoes. The only thing missing from the picture would have been a small dog in her designer handbag.

“As you can see the equipment that we use in the labs is the most up-to-date available, with a number of tweaks provided by a few of our students-” his tutor was saying, but stopped short on seeing him sat at his computer. “Oh Scott, I’m terribly sorry I thought everyone had left-”

“I’ll get out of your way now,” Scott said at the same time as the woman said:

“Oh it’s not a bother Thomas; this way I get to see your students in action.”

“Ah, in which case,” his tutor stammered, trying to regain his train of thought. “This is Scott Tracy -the son of astronaut Jeff Tracy- one of our prize pupils.”

The woman smiled. “It is a pleasure to meet you Scott. I am Lady Penelope Creighton-Ward.”

Scott’s eyes widened- his first English lady. “You ladyship,” he nodded reverently.

“Please, call me Penelope. I know you father, as it happens.”

 _Who doesn’t?_ Scott thought. “Really? How come?”

“Oh, we met quite recently at a gala. How is he doing?”

“You’ve probably seen him more recently than I have. I’ve been busy here.”

“Of course. I shall have to pass it on to him that I met you.” Penelope held out her hand and Scott shook it. Despite her initial aloof aristocratic air she seemed to Scott to be warm and genuine. She turned back to the tutor. “Now Thomas, weren’t you going to thrill me with this spectacular supercomputer of yours? I’m ever so excited to see it. It was a pleasure to meet you, Scott.”

The afternoon after Lady Penelope had left, his tutor gave him an excited double thumbs up and Scott had a feeling he’d just been instrumental in securing funding for their course!

*

“I grow tired of waiting! When will the plans for the supercomputer be in my hands?”

“Soon,” Agent Z replied. The Hood it seemed was becoming so impatient that he had ignored the instructions to wait to be contacted and had ordered Agent Z to contact him directly ASAP. Agent Z tapped the top of the box again as the voice grated through the receiver. “It won’t be long until I have access to the lab.”

“My buyers are restless. I hired you for your methods. I want results.”

The dial tone blared out and the screen flashed up _End Of Call_. Agent Z’s methods were very thorough. Then again if the Hood became impatient enough to decide to get involved personally then things could get very messy. Though Agent Z had not been of the receiving end of his telepathic powers it was something they were very much aware of with other spies and terrorist organisations who had displeased him. It was better this way.

*

Scott still had no idea whether his time at Oxford had been the right decision. He’d spoken to his father (who was just about able to spare some time for the phone call away from his project he’d been setting up for the last however many years), for he had no idea how exactly he was meant to fit into his father’s grand plan. He’d taken a few flying simulations and had learned to fly a helicopter and got the feeling he should pursue that further, but he was becoming ever more unsure of himself.

As these thoughts became crushing, he received in the post a long tube from his father, containing the message-

_I hope this will help you make the right decision. Whatever you do I’m proud of you son. Dad x P.S. Do not show these plans to anyone. Secrecy is key to this operation._

Scott had been about to slide out the pieces of paper right there in the post room. Instead he rushed back to his flat, ran to his room and bolted the door. From out of the tube slid three blueprints, all picturing from different angles the most magnificent ship Scott had ever seen, and in one corner written roughly “Codename: Operation Thunderbirds”. Sleek, fast, with a number 1 painted on the fuselage, it felt like love at first sight. There were very basic notes written in a hand he didn’t recognise (the work was signed simply “ _Brains_ ”) but in amongst those he spotted his brother Virgil’s input, including on the leaf that detailed the cockpit a little Scott had been drawn in uniform with a line pointing to him saying “This is where you go!”

Biting his lip, Scott finally understood. He knew he wanted to be the best pilot possible to this amazing aircraft, and he wasn’t sure that could happen while he was at Oxford. As he came to this conclusion the doorbell rang and he went to let in Amy. They hung out for a while in the kitchen before returning to his bedroom- Scott had quite forgotten he’d left the Thunderbird 1 plans strewn across the floor.

“What’s this? Building rockets now?” Amy laughed on entering the room. Scott inwardly cursed himself and quickly gathered up the plans.

“No, it’s just something my father sent, it’s nothing,” he unceremoniously stuffed the plans into a drawer and returned to her. They made out for a while before they returned to talking.

“You’ll have to show me your labs,” Amy said. “You’ve spoken so much about it and I’m dying to see it, and then I will visit you during the day to bring you pie!”

Scott considered it; the security of the labs had become lax recently- after his tutor had shown around Lady Penelope a few other classmates had shown around friends or partners. So long as he was discreet about it.

“What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Nothing I couldn’t cancel,” Amy said.

“Meet me at lunchtime and I’ll show you around?”

“Deal!”

Scott always slept like a log (a trait gained from sharing a house with four brothers and a father who could all bring the heavens down with their combined snoring) so he didn’t wake in the night when Amy slipped from his bed, opened the drawers and plucked out the plans for Thunderbird 1. She studied them in the half light, committed the details of the notes to memory and returned the plans to the drawer.

*

The next morning, Scott slipped out of the lab to meet Amy at her car and brought her inside the university. She followed him through the hallways and down stairs and watched as he swiped the card in the reader, the door swinging open to admit them to the computer lab. A quick sweep showed his tutor wasn’t around and they slipped in.

Her expression was suitably impressed as Scott and his classmates presented their work for her inspection.

“And this,” Dave declared, pulling her to the back of the room, “is our wonderful supercomputer that controls it all!”

“Wow!” Amy marvelled at it. Really all of the graduates loved to show off their creations despite the strict security rules. “How is it controlled? Who does that?”

“Over here!” one of the doctorate students called them over and spun around a screen on the supercomputer to face them. “Securely protected, of course. All of the plans are stored inside the computer itself and we don’t want anyone else getting their hands on those! Go on have a go at trying to break into it!”

Looking puzzled, Amy stepped up to the keyboard and typed a few times, trying to crack the puzzle on the screen. After each attempt the screen flashed red. Eventually she conceded defeat and the doctorates high-fived at their job well done.

The lab door swung open and Scott forcibly pushed her under the desk as their tutor came in ordering them to go to lunch (there was a strict No Food in the labs and god knows they would have all worked over lunch were it not for his constant reminders). As his mates filed out Scott waited behind until they were alone and turned to Amy.

“Sorry for shoving you just then,” he apologised. Amy drifted away from him over to the controls of the supercomputer, swinging the screen towards her and away from Scott.

“Don’t worry; I enjoyed you being forceful,” she grinned wickedly before turning her attention to the keypad, typing to meet the challenges on the screen as they arose.

“Any joy?” Scott laughed at her determination.

“Nope, nothing.” The screen flashed to reveal the screensaver- a Man City backdrop. She was in.

“Don’t be too down heartened, I must have failed ten times trying to crack the code!” A noise from the door made Scott turn and Amy slipped a USB into the port. The virus was quick as the files for the supercomputer began downloading themselves onto the device.

“It is an incredible piece of machinery,” Amy moved round towards Scott. It was important at this point to keep his attention away from the download screen.

Scott had other things on his mind anyway. “Shall we get some lunch now?”

This could be bad. If they left the lab somebody could come back and discover the system had been hacked, and there would be no guarantee of Scott bringing her back to the lab. Thinking fast she said “Or we could spend lunch here.”

Scott smiled. “We’re not supposed to eat near the computers.”

Amy just kissed him in response and he got the point quickly enough. “Hm, haven’t you ever thought what it would be like doing it in the workplace?”

There had been that one girl in Yale, who had quickly left after one of Scott’s American classmates had walked in on them, but he had a feeling retelling that story wouldn’t get him too far right now. So he just shut up and kissed her back. Scott never heard the gentle ping as the files finished downloading.

As Scott buckled up his trousers afterwards, Amy slipped back round by the computer and slipped out the USB, the screen returning to the original password page.

*

That night the phone rang twice before the Hood said “Speak.”

“I have the plans for the supercomputer,” Amy said, tapping her finger on top of the box.

“Excellent! You have done well Agent Z-”

“There is more,” Amy cut across. “In procuring the plans I came across blueprints for a new kind of rocket, Codename: _Thunderbirds_.”

“What is this?”

“The blueprints suggest that the ship is powered by an atomic fusion reactor, variable mode engines would make it capable of working as a rocket or hover jet, with a max speed of 15,000 mph.”

Amy was silent as the information sank in at the other end and reflected her good fortune on finding the plans. She had originally assessed the graduates with access to the supercomputer and picked out Scott Tracy as her most likely in- her previous work had seen her capable of manipulating and conning millionaires out of money so she had great knowledge of what lines worked well to make them think her genuine in her feelings. Really the money that the jobs paid was far more attractive, though it never hurt to work with a good looking guy like Scott- her last job had been a sleazy 60 year old oil merchant.

Finally the Hood spoke. “You will report to the rendezvous point tomorrow as planned. If you bring the Thunderbirds blueprints -and they are what you say they are- then I will add another zero to your fee.”

Now he was speaking her language. “I won’t let you down.” The _End Of Call_ screen flashed.

*

“ _What the hell?_ ”

“What’s wrong?” Scott looked over from his own computer screen to where the doctorate student was slapping at the keypad.

“Bloody supercomputer has reported a virus. Who was in charge of the updates yesterday?”

They began dishing out the blame between them and Scott returned to his work. He was crunching some tricky numbers when his tutor came in.

“Scott, could you come to my office please?” He said seriously. Scott cringed as he followed him out of the room. He thought he’d been careful in bringing Amy to the lab yesterday; had it somehow got back to his tutor about what they’d been getting up to? Was he about to face discipline for it or did they go straight to expulsion in England?

His tutor opened the door, said “I’ll leave you two alone,” and walked off. Puzzled, Scott went inside and found-

“Lady Penelope!”

She was sat in front of the desk, dressed in another elegant suit, smoking a cigarette, another chair across from her and she indicated he should sit down. “Hello Scott, it is good to see you again.”

“And you. How can I help you?”

“I’m here on a rather delicate matter,” she began. Her eyes kept him fixed in a powerful gaze. “I don’t know if Jeff ever told you but I am chief operative of the Federal Agents Bureau.”

“No,” Scott’s eyes widened. “So you’re a secret agent?”

“To put it plainly, yes.” Penelope flicked some ash off of her cigarette into a tray. “We believe that there is a terrorist organisation trying to steal the plans for the supercomputer here in Oxford.”

“That’s serious. Those plans in the wrong hands could do terrible damage.”

“Indeed, but there is more. Being Jeff’s son I presume you are aware of his plans regarding the set up of an International Rescue team?”

Scott’s jaw (metaphorically) dropped. “How do you know about that?”

“Jeff recruited myself as an agent shortly after you arrived to study here,” Penelope said, leaning forward. “Also, we intercepted a call last night from a public phone that suggests the agent will be rendezvousing today with the plans for the supercomputer and the blueprints for the Thunderbirds designs. Do you have any idea how it might be that the agent could get her hands on them?”

Scott’s stomach plummeted with every word. To his knowledge only one other person knew he had those plans, and it simply couldn’t be her. It couldn’t. Yet as Scott’s feet took him from the room he had to know for certain.

*

Scott moved quicker than ever before in his life, running back to his flat a few roads away. As he stormed through the front door his flatmate said “Hi Scott! You just missed her!”

“What?” Scott said, breathing heavily.

“It’s OK, Amy was just picking up her bag she’d left here the other night- hey wait!” Scott was already up the stairs and barrelled into his room. A quick look through the drawer confirmed the blueprints had been taken. He collapsed into sobs, thoughts of what his father would say knowing he had jeopardised the whole operation and knowing he had been well and truly played.

Not knowing what to do he staggered back down the stairs to find Lady Penelope waiting in his front hall. How she had followed him so quickly he didn’t care.

“They’re gone. The plans have gone. It’s my fault,” he said, trying to compose himself.

“Oh dear, this is very serious,” Lady Penelope muttered. “Do you have any idea where she might have gone to?”

Scott shook his head. A beeping noise drew their attention and Penelope consulted her compact mirror. “Go ahead Parker.”

“Yer Ladyship,” the voice from the compact mirror said. “I hav just spotted a woman matching the discription leaving in a blue convertible goin’ towards the ring road.”

“Very good Parker, we will be along right away.” Penelope closed the mirror and took Scott’s arm. “Come- it might not be too late.”

It already felt too late, yet her words gave way to a glimmer of hope in Scott’s mind. Not for Amy, but that the plans to his ‘Bird might yet be saved.

He wrinkled his nose slightly as he saw what was awaiting them outside- a bright pink Rolls Royce. Hardly conspicuous, but this was not a time for him to be picky. He slid in next to Penelope on the backseat and she said “Quick as you can, Parker.”

“Yes m’Lady,” said their driver. The door closed and the Rolls pulled away at a surprising speed. Negotiating the streets was tricky and they all had their eyes peeled and as they came to the outskirts Scott noticed the blue convertible.

“There!” He cried.

“Hang back Parker. We don’t wish to cause a scene.” Penelope mused. They followed, keeping several cars between them, but once they were on the dual carriageway and the road in front cleared she shot off.

“It happears we’ve been spotted m’lady,” Parker pointed out.

“Indeed,” Penelope sighed. “We will have to give chase Parker.”

The Rolls kept pace with the convertible easily. Pulling out wildly, Amy suddenly cut off several cars sharply to pull off onto a slip road.

“It seems as though she’s getting desperate,” Scott muttered.

“No doubt trying to shake us off,” Penelope agreed. “I had hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Parker, use the minimum amount of force necessary- wait for a clear patch of road.”

“Yes m’lady.” Scott’s heart thumped and he quickly questioned it- she had used him and stolen the blueprints. Did he really care if she got hurt at this point?

Parker pushed a couple of buttons and the machine cannon extended from the front grill of the Rolls. He took a couple of shots but quickly said “it’s no good- the aim is all off with focusing on the road.”

“Let me try,” Scott leaned forward to the controls for the cannon.

“Aim for the tyres first,” Penelope warned him. Steadying his nerves he took her words on board, lowering the cannon from where he had initially aimed and shot two bullets into the tyres. The effect was immediate and the convertible careered off to the left, down a steep slope and flipped onto its roof.

Parker pulled over quickly and Scott and Lady Penelope both got out, taking off down the hill after the crashed car. The blueprints had been thrown from the car and had landed some metres away- Scott picked them up and turning back saw Amy’s body crushed beneath the wreckage, not moving. His first kill. The sense of betrayal stung badly and his body shook hard. Penelope retrieved the USB and satisfied turned to Scott, her expression turning to one of concern.

“Do you wish to talk about it?” she asked quietly.

“I was a fool to think she would ever care for me. All anyone sees in me is somebody who can be used,” he said bitterly. Penelope stepped over to him carefully and cupped his face.

“Let’s go for a drive and talk.”

*

The Hood sat in his temple and read in a newspaper about the death of a spy in the Oxfordshire countryside. It was a nuisance to him- the buyers had heard the word and broken off the deal and it was a small consolation that there was no way the spy could be traced back to him. Still, it had given him something new to think about.

“Thunderbirds,” he mused out loud. “I will find you one day and then all of your secrets will be mine!”

*

Scott had managed to assure Penelope’s word that day to conceal from his father the part he had played in almost losing the Thunderbird 1 blueprints to the highest bidder. They remained close and soon after he made the move, leaving behind his friends in Oxford to join the US Air Force. The military training served him well and taught him the necessary skills so that finally, years later when he finally met his ‘Bird he took to the controls as if he’d known them all his life. And he would always be protective of keeping her image away from prying cameras for he now looked back on his experience as a painful reminder for why secrecy was key.

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic in nearly a year and this is what it is! I will probably continue further with the Thunderbirds fan fics (I have some quite cool ideas floating around!) but am super busy so will get those written as and when.
> 
> This fic is a bit of a change to my usual style in that there is more action and less dialogue. Let me know what you think!


End file.
